


Happy Birthday

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Happy Birthday by Spookybear

26 October 1998  
Just a little something to celebrate the day 10/13/98 M/Sk Romance (MiSkers Unite!)  
Rating: R for language and insinuations. Mild stuff though  
OK to archive as long as my name is attached.

* * *

Happy Birthday  
by Spookybear  
10/98

I been shot a few times. I had the living crap beaten out of me on several occasions, black alien goo forced upon me, tortured, fingers broken and nearly blown up in a buried train car. I've been pursued relentlessly by unknown goons from shadowy conspiratorial groups. I have had my sister, my father and several partners taken from me in violence. I've been ridiculed by my peers, distrusted by my partner and thought to be insane on more than one occasion by those closest to me. And a few weeks ago, my office and all of my files were burned purposely. All of these instances left me in poor condition yet none of these life experiences could be compared to the kind of day from hell I had today of all days - my fucking birthday.

The joke about being born under a bad sign was beginning to sound like a reality for me. I had a friend in college do my astrological chart once just to see what it showed. He refused to interpret it for me saying that I didn't really want to know how crazy my life would be. I laughed at him then, thinking it was all bullshit. I'm not laughing anymore. I mean, Libra's are supposed to be some of the few that "have it together" - right? Balance and all that happy horse-shit. Well if that's the case, I'd hate to see how bad all the other signs are 'cuz I'm about as fucked up as they get.

So, my birthday starts out like any other normal (ha!) day. I get up to go to work only my alarm didn't go off for some strange reason and I'm late. I have to shower otherwise Scully is going to tease me mercilessly about "staying up too late" which is her way of saying that I shouldn't be fucking Walter on a school night. Yeah, well, sometimes I can't wait for the weekend. Anyway, I jump in the shower and there's no hot water. There's not even tepid water. The crap was cold enough to make my balls want to crawl back inside for warmth. Needless to say, it wasn't pleasant. I grinned and took it. I'm lying of course, I cursed like a sailor.

Out of the shower, dripping with icicles and frozen testicles I proceed to get dressed only to find that my favorite suit pants have torn in the crotch. Why is it that when my pants tear it always seem to be at the crotch? I could get an ego out of it but all I am is annoyed. I dig through my closet for another suit and have to end up wearing one that is a few years old and a little tight. I've put on some weight in the past few years due to Walter's killer pasta and I'm not quite the scarecrow I used to be.

Running out the door to try and beat the clock, I slipped and caught the jacket on a sharp object. Consequently, it tore. I survey the damage and decided that I can live with one slightly torn jacket for the day but it meant that yet another Armani was down for the count. I spend a freakin' fortune on suits since the Bureau doesn't reimburse me for clothes destroyed on duty anymore. Seems like I destroyed more suits in one year than the entire VCU did for two.

Luckily the trip into work went rather smoothly. No car accidents and no bizarre occurrences. I get into the office at 8:37 to see Scully trying desperately not to look annoyed or worried or pissed or concerned all at the same time. I've not shown up so frequently that she has no idea how to react. She takes one look at me and starts to giggle. Her giggling soon turns into deep belly laughs and I have no idea why. All she can do is howl and point at me. She tries to convey some message but every time she calms down enough to talk, the giggles overtake her again.

Now, I'm pissed. Not at her but at life in general and I go off in a huff to the bathroom to see what's so damned funny. The mirror tell no lies. In my haste to get dressed in non-damaged clothing, I performed a serious fashion no-no. I had on a blue shirt and burgundy tie with charcoal pants and a brown jacket. I was a bloody fashion violation. To add insult to injury, the tear in the jacket was worse than I thought and the whole bottom left side dangled at an obvious angle.

At this time, fate takes another cruel turn. My lover the AD and three other AD's walk into the men's room. They stop in their tracks when they see me and Walter's face goes through a series of subtle changes. He gets an odd look on his face and I realize that he's biting the insides of cheeks to keep from laughing. I remind myself to kill him later. One of the other AD's asks me if everything is alright and I make up some lie about going undercover for something. Since Walter doesn't refute anything, they let the matter drop. I leave the bathroom and head back down to my hovel. This is the first time that I can truly say I'm glad that I'm in the basement. This way, no one else will see me for the rest of the day.

Oh, but the karma Nazi's won't let me alone! Scully, who is still snickering, and I get called into a mandatory meeting with several other agents. To my dismal luck, Spender is there. I hate that little prick and I hate him even more for the pitying look he gives me. 

Oh joy of joys! Scully and I get stuck helping out with a sting operation. Just the kind of thing I want to do; work with Agent Prick and all of his little friends. Of course the bastard has us do the most boring part - surveillance. So Scully and I are stuck, sitting in a car in the pouring rain and watching for the perp for several hours listening to the only station that would come in clearly - Country and Western. I'm surprised that that alone didn't drive me over the edge. What possessed me to take my car is still beyond my understanding. The perp, who saw us coming a mile away decided that he was going to make the FBI's (read: MY) life miserable and ram the surveillance (again read: MY) car and make his getaway.

Thankfully neither Scully or I was hurt but my car was pretty much totaled. Considering how my day had gone thus far, I think that I handled the situation rather well. I only used about half of my cursing vocabulary to describe what I thought about Spender and his piss-poor planning of the operation. I made sure that he and his cronies were well out of earshot though. I might have been madder than a cornered wolverine but I wasn't stupid. I'd already gotten in a lot more trouble concerning Spender and I wasn't about to repeat it over something like this. Scully listened to me with the patience of a saint and then got us back to the Hoover in one piece and our jobs still intact.

The rain and the accident had made my appearance even worse though and this time even Mr. I'm-in-total-control-of-my-emotions Skinner couldn't stop himself from laughing at my rain-soaked, mismatched suit and plastered hair. I favored him with an evil glare and petulantly stomped back to my desk. I'm not down there for three minutes when I get a call to haul my ass back up to Skinner's office.

Prick-boy decides to blame the perp getting away on me. I should get down on me knees and say a prayer of thankfulness for Scully's presence and state of mind to recall all of the facts and prove the ass-kissing Spender wrong. Had I been alone to defend myself I would have probably just blown his head off. I had no reasoning left in me. But, I'm not the praying type so I just squeezed her hand instead. I'd let her drive for the next three months as thanks. Turns out that everyone in the room knew that it wasn't my fault but it angered me that they let him accuse me anyway. Must be pick on Mulder day.

Finally, after what seems like a year, its time to go home. Walter gets a message to me that he has to work late so my planned birthday dinner is going to get postponed. Somehow, I expected this so I'm not too disappointed. After all, I'm not very good company right now.

Scully drives me home and the first thing I do is get out of my clothes. I pad around the apartment in my boxers and t-shirt trying to find something - anything - that will take my mind off today's occurrences. All I needed now was for Krycek, the Smoking bastard or one of the mighty-morphin' bounty hunters to show up to make my day complete. Instead there is a hesitant knock on my door. I open the door to find a delivery elf holding the biggest bouquet of flowers that I've ever seen. They're from Walter - duh! A little card is attached that says:

"Hope to make you day better. 8pm. My place - WSS  
PS - use your key"

That makes me feel better except for one thing. How the hell am I going to get over to Crystal City with no vehicle? I resign myself to the fact that I'm going to have to spend the money and take a taxi. The ride over is filled with blaring middle-eastern music and an overwhelming smell of patchouli. Don't make assumptions here, the driver was not middle-eastern but some white hippie dude with dreadlocks who liked to weave from side to side in the lane. I think I was white-knuckling it the entire way. He drops me off in front of the wrong building but I didn't care anymore. I was way past the point of caring about anything.

Down the street, into the front doors and up the elevator to Walter's apartment, I keep wondering what it is that I am doing. There is no way that I am going to be able to function tomorrow with no sleep. Not with the way today had gone. But, here I was, about to enter the den of iniquity knowing full well that I had to work tomorrow.

I open the door an go inside. There are no lights on but there is a glow of candlelight coming from the dining room. I move towards the lights when suddenly the overheads bulbs turn on and the shouts of "SURPRISE!" fill the room. Scully, Walter and the Gunmen are all there with party hats and smiles. My eyes mist over and I have to swallow down the tears that threaten to spill. An honest-to-god birthday party. I don't think that I've every had one.

Scully gives me a sisterly hug and kiss and whispers in my ear that I needed some levity after today. The Gunmen do their usual round of jokes and give me gag gifts to add to my collection. Walter just smiles at me but his eyes convey a deep love and an invitation to a lust filled evening after the party is over.

I waffle between wanting to shoot them all for pulling this behind my back and gushing over with tears. I settle for middle ground and join the party. After all, I am a Libra.

***THE END***

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